Epistle
by AntebellumHope
Summary: "You weren't supposed to die that night." Prob'ly wasn't the best way to start a letter, 'specially if it's recipient had been dead ten years. But honestly, I was still pissed at him for getting himself killed. How's that for friendship?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **So. Eight straight hours of writing and rock music, two and a half slices of pizza, and one excruciating workout later...I give you the longest thing I've ever written in one day. I've kinda jumped on the SAINW bandwagon. Let me enjoy the ride for a bit, and I'll get back to my other stories.

Now, this is one full of firsts for me as an author: First time I've written solely in first-person. First time I've tried to have equal parts dialogue and prose. First time I've played with time, keeping the main character's thoughts/actions at two places within a ten year span. First time I've chosen Raphael to be the main focus (b/c he is a very difficult character for me to write as I tend to identify with and focus on Donnie or Leo). First death-fic.

I would greatly appreciate feedback on the general things: everyone's in character? Flow is good? Structure is easy enough to follow?

Thanks so much, and without further ado, here you are!

* * *

><p><em>You weren't supposed to die that day.<em>

I stared at the line I'd just written. Probably wasn't the best way to start a letter, 'specially if it's recipient had been dead going on ten years. I ripped the paper apart and squashed the little pieces into a ball. It went sailing across the room to join the growing pile. The whiskey stung as it went down, but once the shot hit bottom, I decided, _Screw it, I'll start the letter however I damn well please._

'Cause honestly, I was still pissed at 'im for gettin' himself killed. I snorted. How's that for friendship? I pulled out another sheet. The notebook at my side wasn't made for the abuse I put it through. The pen shook in my hand as I pressed it onto the clear line, and I swore when I realized I'd just finished the last of the bottle.

_You weren't supposed to die that day. I wasn't supposed to come home alone. It was just gonna be the two of us raising cane and dishing out a fist or two to keep the troublemakers in line._

Sweat was beading on my forehead. I wasn't even four lines in and already my stomach churned as though to remind me that my dinner wouldn't look as good the second time I saw it. It was just a letter! Just one measly sheet of paper and my illegible handwriting, and here I was wishin' for booze or cigarettes to help me get through it!

_But you just had to go and shake things up. Not that I'd have expected anything less._

_I guess it all started about three nights before that, though, when Leonardo_

I threw the empty bottle with all my might and was thoroughly satisfied when it shattered. He'd better appreciate this after dragging me back through all of _that_ again! If my..._brother..._wasn't such a key player, I'd have marked through his name so hard it would make a hole in the paper and then burned the note. Well, okay, that was still an option, and who knows? I might get to it once the alcohol really got into me. But still. Casey deserved to know what happened, and I needed to be the one to tell him.

_came back from the recon mission._

* * *

><p>It was around midnight when I finally heard the window in the apartment open up. Babysittin' April's place was never my favorite job, but rotation put me on scout duty and Leo on point for the mission. Mikey had finished trickin' out the lair with what of Don's old stuff he could figure out how to work. It'd been nearly six years since we'd seen the little nerd, and nights like tonight really rubbed his absence in my face.<p>

I shook off the depression and wondered into the living area. April's place just never seemed the same when she was gone. The cobwebs stood out more, and the dust bunnies bred and overtook the shelves and cabinets. She said she'd be back in a couple of days, had to get her sister and her uncle settled in the estate somewhere just north of Albany.

The night wind blew in with my brother, and the chill seeped into my bones. "'S 'bout time you showed up."

The blue bandana tails fluttered in the breeze, and I noticed for the first time how bad he was shaking. He turned to face me, and I swear I forgot how to breathe. He was caked from head to toe in gore. Blood pulsed out of a wound in his shoulder, but the rest was drying on his limbs and gear. He flinched as I caught him when his knees buckled.

"What happened?" I asked sharply.

His breaths were short and fast. Grimacing, he pulled off his jacket, exposing the wound to the air. "Gun...shot. Might've hit...artery."

He speech was slurring, and his head dipped and swayed. I patted his cheek roughly. "C'mon, wake up. Don't make me smack you more'n I have to."

He gave a valiant attempt at rolling his eyes into the scowl I knew so well and wormed his way onto the floor. I ran to the closet and grabbed a few towels. Kneeling, I pressed all of my weight onto his shoulder to prevent anymore blood loss. He cried out using words that brought a slight flush to _my_ face. At some point, the pain got to him and he stopped thrashing.

I didn't think the streams of crimson staining his torso and legs were all his blood. It was a lot, more than he could've lost and still made it back here conscious, but the thought did little to comfort me. It just meant we'd lost more of our guys. I sighed. The Shredder was getting smarter and stronger if he could take out one of our recon squads in one fell swoop.

"Told ya I should've come along," I muttered at him. Peeling the towels back, I was pleased to see the wound was trying to clot. I stuck my hand onto his shoulder blade, feeling for an exit wound…there! I released the breath I didn't know I'd been holding, eternally thankful I wouldn't have to go digging around my brother's insides lookin' for a bullet. He'd need to be trussed up like a turkey for a bit, but that'd have to wait until Mikey got back.

I flipped my phone open. "Hey, Mike. Where are ya right now?"

"'Bout to head your way. Whatcha need?"

"Think you can find some more dressings or somethin' and bring 'em with ya?"

"Uh, sure. I'll see what I can do." He paused. "Who was it this time?"

The resigned question seemed outta place comin' from my baby brother, but I knew he wouldn't let me off without getting an answer. "Eh...It's Leo. Got clipped by some punk with a gun."

He sucked in a sharp breath. "How...how is he?"

"He'll live."

"Right. I'll be over there soon." The line went dead.

* * *

><p><em>We spent the rest of the night trying to convince Leonardo that first aid was a good thing, and that a band aid or two wouldn't make a bullet wound magically heal. It was actually good to see him out of commission for a bit. I got to step up and be the boss like I'd always wanted, able to shove <em>my _orders down _his_ throat for a change. It didn't stop him from fighting me tooth and nail and second guessing every call I made, though._

_By the end of the third day, I'd seriously had enough. I dumped his butt in the room we'd fixed up for ourselves in April's basement, told Mikey I was going out to check on supplies or something, and left. I remember sitting outside your window, watching you pace. I think you were nearly as stir-crazy as me by that point, what with April out of town and me and the guys trying to get a handle on what Shredder was up to. I knew you'd been wanting in on the action since you figured out our shtick, and I swear we didn't mean to let you and April fall by the wayside. We just didn't want either of you to get in over your heads._

I gave into the migraine I'd been fighting and set aside the letter. Massaging my temples, I tried to calm the shakes that had taken over. It might have been my frayed nerves or the alcohol or the fact that I felt some burning need to talk to my best friend one last time or some combination of all three, but in the end, the whiskey and the sandwich were back on the floor. On all fours, I heaved again and again until nothing was left, and still my body hitched and twisted in sickness.

"Ungh," I shuddered as I wiped the strings of saliva from my mouth. Swallowing the knot in my throat and my pride, I returned to the makeshift bench and picked up the pen again.

_I am so sorry. For leaving you out and listening to my own ideas over everyone else's and letting you down. And I'm sorry I couldn't keep _

There was a stinging behind my eyes as I recalled the promise he'd bound me to. Irritated, I slid my thumb over my lids and scratched out the last two and a half lines. Self pity wasn't gonna get me anywhere, and he'd probably come back just to take a swipe at me for it. I'd done all I could and squared with those demons long ago; it was just the drink talking.

_You were just spoiling for a fight, I could tell, and I didn't see what harm it would do to have a sidekick._

* * *

><p>We spent the better part of the patrollin' around the park before we'd found someone stupid enough to take us. They tried to jump us as we came up on the east entrance. They had no marks to identify them as Foot or Dragons, so they were probably your garden variety wannabes that couldn't fight worth crap. The Shredder had put a large enough price on all of our heads that crazies from the underworld of street gangs to the illicit white collar crews knew us well. Rarely did they approach our homes, but while we were training or traveling in the city, they came out of the woodwork. What the heck. At least I had someone to punch hard enough that they <em>couldn't<em> talk back if they wanted.

The last seventy-two hours were really starting to grate on my sanity. Between Leo's backtalk and his refusal to tell either of us what happened until April got back and we could all meet up, it was a wonder me or Mikey one hadn't clobbered him yet. I was pretty sure Mikey could keep him locked in the downstairs apartment long enough for me to blow off a little steam.

I blocked high and threw a punch into the guy's face. I might have busted his nose, but he screamed and fell away like I'd branded him. I heard plenty of grunts and squeals from my six, so I assumed Casey was holdin' his own. I'd barely warmed up by the time we'd mowed down our opponents.

"Well," he panted. "That was fun."

I laughed and clapped him on the back. "C'mon, let's see if we can find a few more of 'em."

The clouds rolled in and lightning lit up the night by the time we'd reached the docks. We perched on one of the warehouse and waited for nearly an hour for _something_ to happen.

He rolled his eyes and stretched. "Welp, I'd call this a bust. Wanna head back?"

"Not really."

He cocked his head. "What's eatin' ya?"

"More like 'who.'"

"Leo? But I thought you said he was laid up."

"He is! That's the sad part!" I pummeled the ledge with the butt of the sai I'd been spinning. "His whole I'm-in-charge bit is actually worse when he can't enforce his orders."

Casey laughed and jerked his head toward the city. "Well, then ya might wanna get back before the weather picks up any worse."

I sighed and stood, knowin' he was right. But I still had a little edge I needed to work outta my system. "Race ya home. Last one there owes ev'ryone a round next time we get together."

He shook my hand firmly. "You're on."

The buildings blurred as I pushed myself past my burning calves and further into the city. The sky abruptly opened up, and I couldn't see five feet in front of me for the rain. Mud and grit stuck to my feet, and I slid to the edge of a building, stopping only to get a fix on my location. I couldn't see Casey anywhere, and knowin' him, he'd prob'ly stashed his bike somewhere and was back at his warm, dry pad. Irked, I pressed on until I found myself starin' at the southern park entrance.

The trees looked sad, flattened as they were by the sheets of water poundin' on 'em. If I remembered correctly, there was a manhole about a block from here. I could get underground and wait out the storm. I winced, knowing I'd most definitely lost the race. Everyone was getting cheap rotgut at the next gathering.

I shook droplets of rain and sweat onto the sewer walls and stood back to watch the storm through the grating. A pang caught me in the chest as I thought of all the times I'd sat up with Donnie doing this very thing. I think the last time had been when we were nine. He had always been fascinated with storms, but he was really scared of the thunder. He'd drag me outta bed to come watch the squall blow through, and I'd always end up having to carry his sleeping butt back home. When we were older, I asked him once why he didn't ever get Leo or Mikey to go with him, and the answer stuck with me.

'_Cause you just let me be afraid. Mikey would be just as scared as me, and Leo would just tell me to face my fears. You...you protected me, and your protection wasn't contingent on my bravery. I felt safest with you, and I guess I still do, to a point._

I scowled at myself. Some job I did looking after him.

I shook off the ghosts and peered at the sky. It seemed to be thinning a bit, but it was also getting lighter. I smiled as I thought of Mikey having to tie Leo to the bed to keep him from coming out after me. Mikey was going to kill me if I was gone too much longer. I poked my head out of the ground and scanned the area. It seemed clear enough, aside from the thick fog that had moved in, so I hefted my body up out of the drain and continued my trek home.

I wasn't sure when I became aware that something was off. It felt like I was being watched or followed, but I couldn't tell through the mist. Straining my ears for the slightest whisper of movement, I was wholly unprepared for the ground to come rushing at me. The fist had shot out of the dark before I could react, and I was spitting rocks and teeth out of my mouth as I picked myself up off the ground. Sais in hand, I struck out blindly until the blade connected with a throat. I could tell I'd got in a good strike as my hand was bathed red and the gurgling noise ceased in under twenty seconds.

If the guy - a Foot, I could tell by the emblem etched onto his neck - had any friends with him, they were a bit more careful when they saw I had no problem eviscerating another person. Dulled though they were, the sai could do some serious damage when I put enough force behind 'em. A throwing star whizzed past my temple, and even as I rolled, I caught someone's knee in my ribs and wheezed. I didn't have enough time to catch my breath before a series of punches and strikes took me to the ground. Near as I could tell, there were five, maybe six, more of 'em, and they had to be higher ranking in the clan to be able to pull off a coordinate ambush.

I sneered and shouted, "C'mon. Too chicken to face me one on one?"

I could almost hear Leonardo berating my apparent bravado, but I needed to level the playing field. If I could get a couple of these guys to take me head on, I had a better chance of breakin' up their little game. The Fearless Leader wasn't the only one who could concoct a plan on the fly.

"What? Ya need to hold each other's hands to face one turtle in a fight?"

Two of 'em took my bait and lashed out. I ducked and faked left before driving the hilt into the man's solar plexus. He went limp, unconscious from the sudden force to his midsection. I found the other one's shoulder and whipped my other hand around his head, quickly twisting and sickly smiling as I felt the bones strain then break. The remaining ninja were hesitant to join the small mound of corpses at my feet. I made a mad dash into the center of the group before they could make their next move. One of the more skittish ones ran off before I could really do anything besides growl at him. The rest went down in a hail of wild swings, precision kicks, and paralyzing nerve strikes, obviously hedging their bets on Plan A working without a hitch.

It took me a minute to shake the feral beast from my system and see that all of them were down and out. My skin pinched with dried blood and water, and I could feel several good bruises forming. And I still had a mile and a half to go til I got to Casey's. I groaned, and set off on the jog before I could talk myself out of it.

~*.*~

I knew something might be wrong when I saw the shattered glass on the street. As dilapidated as the complex was, a neighborhood kid could have just as easily thrown a rock through the window, but that ingrained sixth sense told me to play it safe. Instantly concealing myself in the shadows, I waited a full five minutes before investigating. Sensing no attackers, I crept up the fire escape to the window that faced the alley. It had been propped open with a piece of plywood and duct-taped into place. I vaguely recalled him complaining about a busted a/c a couple of weeks ago. Sliding into the flat, I swore when I landed on a pile of dirty (and possibly molding) dishes.

"Case, I cannot wait til April shows you how efficient cleaning makes your life," I snarled at the plate that was adhered to the back of my thigh.

The lights were off but the TV was on, and I was sure my hunch about his bike was right. Knowing he never cared, I opened the fridge and pulled out the last of the six pack stowed behind the vegetables. "Yo, Case!"

My voice echoed back at me, and unease gripped my chest. I sat the beer on the table and tiptoed around the divider.

It was the smell that stopped me. Like rust and salt and bile. The carpet squished under my weight, and I was horrified to find my foot dripping ichor. The flashing technicolor lights illuminated the couch and its occupant. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, hands carelessly flung over the arm behind his head, feet at a comfortable angle.

Maybe it wasn't his blood on my feet.

Maybe he was just sleepin' off the fight.

Maybe that purple area on his neck was just a shadow.

Maybe...maybe…

* * *

><p><em>I don't exactly know when it sunk in that you weren't with me anymore, but once it did, I went ballistic. There aren't that many memories of me trashing your old place; at some point, I'd just run out of things to break.<em>

_I'd never known pure, unadulterated hatred before then. I hated them for catching you off guard and beating you senseless. I hated them for stripping you down and taking your dignity. I hated them for knowing your death would be intimate and that their hands would be the last thing you were ever aware of. I totally, completely, dishonorably wanted their blood in cold blood for yours, and God help anyone in my way._

* * *

><p>At some point, I stumbled through the apartment door, not caring how much of a racket I caused. I wasn't sure how I'd found my way back, but all that mattered right now was that my brothers were trippin' over each other up the stairs and I could finally stop runnin'.<p>

"Who's there?" called Leo sharply. He blanched as he came to the edge of the living area. "Raph?"

Mikey ran into Leo when he stopped short. He looked irritated, at first, as he peered at me, but it was immediately wiped away by fear. I suppose I was some sight, covered with blood and vomit and sweat.

"Mikey, get him some water!"

Baby brother snapped into action, but by the time he'd returned, I'd sunk to the floor, dizzy and hurting. He and Leo exchanged a few words then lifted me from the floor to an easy chair. A hand tipped back my head and guided the cool glass to my mouth, supporting my neck as I mechanically swallowed gulp after gulp of water.

"Raphael."

I swiveled my eyes to Leo. He flinched under the listless stare, but continued, "Are you hurt?"

_More than you could ever know._

"'M alright."

"What happened?"

_I sentenced my best friend to death._

"They got 'im."

Somethin' in my tone musta hit a hard chord in both of 'em, for they simultaneously guarded their posture and moved closer to me.

"Got who?" The question shook as it left Mikey's lips.

"C-casey," I moaned. "Dammit, those bastards killed Casey Jones!" I punched the back of the chair and buried my hot face in my hands. I could hear the other two reacting. Two arms locked around my own and we circled up, unabashedly mourning our ally, friend, and brother.

~*.*~

Eventually the tears subsided, and the grief jarred Leo into his favorite role, which was the last thing I needed right now. But I was too tired to do anything but go along with it and chuck the occasional ice cube at him.

"Where is he?"

"In his apartment."

That tick under his eye told me he had found something wrong with those three little words, the most I'd said to him in the past hour. "You left him in his apartment." He repeated it slowly as though doing so would suddenly bring to mind how I'd wronged the world this time.

"Uh, yeah. What else was I supposed to do?"

"You couldn't have brought him to Angel's or even here?"

"How the hell - he lives on the freakin' other side o' the city! And I wasn't exactly in any shape to lug a _corpse - _" I hissed the word at him and enjoyed watching him cringe "- across the New York skyline!"

"You could have at least shut the windows!"

"What, you think someone's gonna break into his place? Newsflash, Leo, dead bodies tend to scare off crooks and landlords."

"What are we supposed to do if the city officials get to him before we can?"

"Show up at the funeral."

He threw his hands up in the air. "I can't believe you! He was your best friend -"

"You don't think I know that!" My fist was up and under his chin before I knew I moved. "I did the best I could, and I'm sorry it missed _your_ mark _again._ He was already gone when I got there, so -"

"Who was?"

We froze as the question cut through the air, and I could tell from the way his jaw dropped that we were sharin' the same thought.

_Oh. Crap._

April was standing the doorway, having walked in on the argument and the travesty. I utterly hated my life in that moment. She cocked her head even as she skirted past us and into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Mikey shied away from her as though she had bitten him and looked desperately from me to Leo and back. I guess I was gonna hafta be the one to tell her. My throat constricted.

She paled a little as I approached her, seeing for the first time the gore and grime I'd had yet to wash off. Her hands flew across my shoulders and torso as she checked me over for injury. I caught them up and brought them close to my neck, where I knew she could feel my heartbeat the strongest.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Apr -"

"You're sure?"

I blinked back a wayward tear. "Yeah. But.. uh…" I shot the guys a frantic look. Michelangelo kept his gaze adverted, and Leonardo was suddenly fascinated by the plaster in the ceiling. "We...lost someone tonight."

I hated the way her face fell. "Oh, no. Who?"

I jerked as though struck by the question. I'd stowed his mask in my jacket, and I'd meant to wash it off before I gave it to her. The plastic quivered in my hand as I held it out to her. "I'm...I'm so sorry, April."

I think I could have handled hysterics. I think I could have handled tears and screams. I think I could have even handled grief-stricken abuse in some form. But I couldn't handle it when she just..._froze._ She stared uncomprehendingly at the item in her hand, apathetically picking at the dried blood. She said nothing; I don't even think she breathed. For more than a minute, she couldn't even respond to her name.

Mikey stole up beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders tentatively, as though waiting for her to break. "April?" We didn't have to wait long. As soon as he touched her, her knees buckled. She lay crumpled and pantin' on the floor like a rabid animal.

"No...no, not him. Why, oh God, no…"

She kept up the steady denials and half-hearted prayers or curses while clutchin' his mask so tight the teeth left imprints on her palms. Mikey swallowed hard as he stroked her back and cooed gently at her. By and by, the words were fewer and further between, and harsh sobs choked out her grudging acceptance.

* * *

><p><em>That lady loved you something fierce, buddy. Still does, though she'll never say so. I think it hurts her too much. She kept that ring you gave her, the one I helped you pick out? Keeps it around her neck 247. You'd be proud of her now. She toughened up quite a bit over the years. She had to. And believe me when I say, _I'd_ think twice before taking her in a fight._

I looked up from the page and slowly tilted my head right and left until my neck popped. It was later than I thought. The moon was hangin' low on the horizon, and I could see the north star blinking back at me. I stashed the letter in the notebook, fairly surprised to see that it'd taken up at least three sheets, and I wasn't even done. They'd be waitin' for me at the base. I sighed. I could finish the blasted thing tomorrow. Maybe I'd be able to find another fifth by then.


	2. Chapter 2

It was about a week before I thought of the letter again. The supply run had taken three days and four nights to complete, and still the rebellion needed more. More weapons, more prisoners, more soldiers. More food, more water, more shelter. More, more, more, more. I'd taken a posse of four down the old west side, where I knew there used to be a couple o' hospitals and a school. The old buildings had been gutted and torched, but we were still able to scavenge a few things. Miraculously (or perhaps forebodingly) neither the band under me nor the one under Mikey met with any Foot peacekeepers. It was prob'ly the first operation in years in which ev'ryone came back alive.

It was also the first time I hadn't seen Leonardo milling about, in the camp or in the city. He may have been shadowin' Mike this time; he seemed to like to alternate between us, but even then I usually ran into him. Literally, sometimes. Not that I was complainin' about his apparent absence. The less I saw of 'im, the better. For all of us.

I shook off the simmering rage and settled into a rhythm, concentratin' on soft, silent landings. I dunno why the old place appealed to me. It was in ruins, it stunk, and it was full of more creepy-crawlies than I cared to think about. But it was where I felt the most secluded, free to think or shout or drink or smoke as I chose, and I highly doubted anyone would want to follow me into such a tumbledown joint. The sitting area I'd fixed up was like I'd left it - surrounded by empty bottles and spent butts.

_Speakin' of which…_

I lit the next to last cigarette in the carton and wandered aimlessly around the old main room. I'd been rather conservative in the drinkin' department the last thirty-six hours or so. I owed it to Casey to finish the letter, no matter how much I didn't want to. The pool had long ago dried up, and the wooden bridge had fallen into it and rotted. Cracks spiderwebbed up the support beams, and that section of the wall looked even more unsteady than the last time I'd been here. I blew out a puff in the direction of one of the rooms I'd made sure to trash real good on my first visit. There were still splinters from the bookcase scattered across the threshold.

I stamped out the butt. No sense in puttin' this off any longer. The pen was a bit more secure in my fingers today. I bit my lip as I read over the last paragraph I'd written, deciding where to start again.

_Sometime the next day, we decided to see if we could get you outta your place and into the ground. We had April drive us over there, but Leonardo told her to stay in the van. None of us wanted her to see you, at least not until we'd had a chance to clean you up a bit._

* * *

><p>We crept into the flat the same way I had last night, though thanks to my previous and less than graceful entry, it was silent and smooth. I swallowed as I trailed my brothers into the living room.<p>

"It looks like a bomb went off in here!" exclaimed Mikey.

"Er, yeah. That mighta been my fault." I sheepishly admitted.

Leo shushed us, and we joined him in front of the couch, and I honestly wished to Heaven that he hadn't been right. Again. Casey's - I shuddered - nude body was pale blue and rigid, the ugly red and purple discoloration showing up bright and clear on his skin. It was slightly bloated, the eyes and tongue swollen and threatening to spill over their boundaries. Mikey gagged, and I had no idea how we were goin' to get Case down three stories in broad daylight.

Leo trudged down the hall.

"He keeps his sheets and stuff in the closet on the right," I called out the information I'd gathered from spendin' more than a few nights camped out in the back room after taking fightin' or drinkin' a little too far.

Sure enough, Leo returned with two thick sheets. Maneuvering Casey's limbs into submission was just plain creepy. I wrestled him into a pair of jeans, and cringed when I realized they were the same ones he'd been walkin' around in just last night. Swallowing back the bile in my throat, I draped the two sheets over him, tying them at the head and feet.

Michelangelo stepped back to look at our handiwork and asked, "Now what?"

Takin' him down the internal stairs or elevator was definitely out of the question, so that left the balcony door and the fire escape. In the end, we ended up passing him through the kitchen window and very slowly winding ourselves and our cargo down six flights of stairs. April had to have been watchin' us the whole time, 'cause her eyes were red and puffy as we tenderly laid him in the bed of the van.

She threw herself over him and wept, and the sound was downright unnerving. She ran a hand over the cloth-covered face and knelt to kiss his forehead. "I love you."

The throaty whispers tore me up. I don't know how I was able to sit still on the way back to her place, but as soon as the doors were open, I bolted. I shut out Leo's protests and Mikey's rapid footfalls as he chased me. I shut out the sounds of the city traffic below. I shut out the blinding sun and the roarin' wind and the vibrations of my phone in my belt. I ran until the pain and exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours caught up with me, and I stumbled hard to the ground. Craving a break, I succumbed to the sleep at the edge of my vision, my last inkling of consciousness cool stone floors I hadn't set foot on in ages.

~*.*~

I felt my eyes flutter open and take in the wanton destruction and the fine layer of dust that covered everything. I jackknifed upright, knowing immediately where I'd fallen.

The old lair. My only true home.

Though long since destroyed, the old place still felt..._right_…now that one of us was back. Everything was cracked and crumbled under my touch, but that didn't stop me from examining it. The warehouse above had fast lost the mechanical parts and machines stored there. Wrenches and hammers were surrounded by entire tool boxes and vehicle parts, like a sick monument to our lost brother and home. I shuffled through the lounge area, which had apparently been looted. As stupid as it was, I was angry at whoever took the couch and the TVs and the coffee table. I knew they were just things, but still. They were special, had seen us through birthdays and injuries alike. The stuff was _ours_, not just anyone's for the takin'.

I came to a halt in front of my old room, stood against the doorframe as I took in what was left of my old life. My weight rack and hammock were still there. The carpet was moth eaten and the few books I'd had were yellowed with age and water. And in the corner, almost out of my line of sight, stood a weathered _bokken._

The wooden training sword had been a present from Leo one Christmas. I think we were ten or eleven. He and I both knew that we would one day wield bladed weapons and often trained side-by-side with the _bokutō _and, when we were older, the _ninjaken._ He took to the swords faster than I did, studied them more methodically and became increasingly concerned with the exacting grace with which they could be handled. I personally didn't have the patience for it, preferring the intimacy of the sai. Short-range weapons and various projectile weapons were my thing, and together we made a formidable team. Was prob'ly why Mikey and Don never wanted to take us on in practice.

I smiled tightly at the memory, my grip on the handle tensing. I'd meant somethin' to him once. _We'd_ meant somethin' to 'im. But apparently whatever pride he'd felt the need to preserve as _chunin_ outweighed whatever love we'd given him as family.

I looked at the object in my hand. "Y'know what? You're right: it was your fault."

* * *

><p><em>Looking back on it now, I think it's funny how one little thing can set someone off. But after all I'd gone through, having Leonardo's betrayal staring me in the face was more than I could manage. I never realized how tough that wooden sword was, but it totaled my old bookshelf, the weight rack, and about half of Leonardo's room before it snapped.<em>

_Man, I'm sorry. I tried to reconcile like you told me to plenty of times, but I think the wounds run a little too deep to be fixed. It's easier to just hold a grudge and ignore him, and I think he feels the same._

I cocked my head at the words I'd just written. It was a pathetic excuse; I didn't need anyone to tell me so. I hated myself for basically throwin' all of the advice Casey'd stored up for me over the years away, but what else was I supposed to do? I couldn't even think about Leonardo anymore without wishin' I could shove my fist down his throat, and I highly doubted he'd changed his tune.

_Followin' orders to the end. _I shook my head. _Look what good it didja._

I blew out a sharp breath and brought my mind back to my work. I'd have plenty of time to gripe about him later.

_When I finally came back, like a day and a half later I think, Leonardo was waiting for me, as per usual. I don't think I've ever _not _found a way to piss him off by just walking into a room._

* * *

><p>The refrigerator squeaked as I opened it. The milk was nearly gone, so I didn't even bother with a glass. It was about one in the morning, and ev'ryone was sleeping.<p>

"Nice to see you decided to come back."

Crap. Well, almost everyone. "Don't start with me, Leo. Not now."

The tone was one I generally saved for threatening enemies, low and breathy with a sharp edge that said I was on a hair trigger. My brothers were usually smart enough to get out of my line of fire when they heard it. I tossed the empty jug in the trash and turned in time to see Leo's full mass charging toward me. He had me pinned against the wall, one arm tight across my shoulders and neck.

I could almost feel the frustration rolling off him as he brought his face in close and hissed, "Okay. Then when? Because I don't think you are going anywhere for a while."

Even injured, he was more than strong enough to keep almost anyone down. But the loss of blood apparently messed with his memory, 'cause I knew he knew from experience not to catch me on a bad day as I tended to fight a little less...fairly.

I jerked my shoulders up and threw him off balance, then rammed my head into his bandaged shoulder. He swore as the wound burst open, staining his dressings a rather nice shade of red. I smirked as he kept about a yard between us.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" He muttered as he grabbed at his wound.

"And you're a _great_ conversation starter, so it evens out."

He scowled and opened his mouth with sharp retort, only to shut it loudly when Mikey ambled in. Baby bro looked us up and down once, then sighed and plopped down on the couch. "You two at it again?"

It was more a statement than a question, and he beckoned Leo to take a seat next to him. He removed the torn gauze and jogged lithely out of the room after tellin' Leo to keep some pressure on it. I rocked back on my heels on the dining room threshold, my glare never wavering. Mikey returned in a couple of minutes with a damp washcloth and some iodine.

"You're both idiots, you know that?"

I snickered. Figures he heard the whole thing. We all kept silent while Leo was patched up. The quiet was only punctuated every now and then with sharp groans of pain from big brother.

"Now," Mikey squared his shoulders at us. "What's up and can it be settled by a decent hour so I can get some sleep?"

"Ask him," I said. "I come home, and I get jumped for apparently gettin' the last of the milk."

Leonardo narrowed his eyes at me. "You weren't here."

"Uh, I'm pretty sure that's not news, Leo."

Mikey kept a hand on him to keep him from gettin' up.

"You left us with Casey's body - your_ best friend's _body - and his grieving beloved. You might have at least had the decency to show up for the funeral."

I flinched, but stood my ground, unwilling to let 'im see how much that stung. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe gettin' my shell handed to me then findin' 'im dead and beaten and having to wonder what his last moments were and having to break his grieving beloved's heart before draggin' you two back to his place so we could put 'im in the ground was maybe just a little more'n I could stomach in one twelve hour period?"

"So, what? The goin' gets tough and you run away?"

My laughter pierced the air. "Pfft, that's rich, comin' from you."

He tensed, and I saw Mikey's eyes go wide with warning. He shook his head, begging me to drop the subject. On another night, I might've, if just to keep his sanity in tact. But tonight, Leonardo's holier-than-thou act got under my skin in just the wrong way, and I wasn't gonna let him walk away unscathed.

Leo inclined his head at angle that said he either had no clue what I was talkin' about or he knew and was about two seconds away from launching himself at me.

_One second. Two seconds._

Well, okay then. He was as stupid as I thought.

"You know what I can't figure out, Leo?" I offered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mikey's head dip as he scooted a little closer to the door.

"What?"

"When life throws _you_ a bunch of lemons, you're allowed to make a little lemonade and then go sulk in the corner while ev'ryone coddles you to convince ya that you ain't a total screw up." I paused, noting that he'd gone nearly white with anger. "When _I'm_ dealt the crappy hand, I'm s'posed to suck it up and carry on like a big boy 'cause if I don't, I'll have to deal with you kickin' me until I do."

"So, you abandoned your best friend because you didn't want me trying to help you through the grieving process?" His answer was more incredulous than annoyed, as though he truly thought that someone denying him a 'big brother responsibility' was the eighth deadly sin.

I shot back, "So you abandoned Master Splinter because you didn't want him to think you capable of independent thought?"

There. It was out in the open. He wasn't ignorant of what I held against him, and I wasn't either. But to have it spoken aloud brought back all anger and all the hurt and all the beggin' God for my father's life. Pain flashed across his features as he processed the accusation. He wheezed out, "You know I had no other choice."

"Like hell you didn't!" I shouted. "I told you then and I'm tellin' ya now you could've gone back for him and still made out with all of us!"

"It wouldn't have mattered! He was already lost!" His voice rose to match mine. "How could I disobey the last order he gave?"

"Quickly and quietly!"

"It wasn't our call to make!"

"And havin' to make his grave's a much better alternative. Thank you, Master Leonardo."

"If _you_ hadn't been so preoccupied with proving yourself to be such a great protector -"

"Well, if _you_ didn't need me watchin' your back every second -"

He shrugged off Mikey's hand and close the distance between us fast. I felt his breath on my face as we circled each other. "I had it under control!"

"Not from where I'm standin'."

"Next time, just fall in line and maybe we'll come away in one piece!"

"You sayin' it's _my_ fault?"

"I warned you your arrogant disobedience would cost us one day!"

"'Cause _you_ always make the right calls?" I shoved him away. The last thing we needed to put April through was an all-brawl, but if he insisted on invadin' my personal space...

"I get it right more often than you."

I growled and struck out at the wall. The momentary discomfort distracted me long enough for Mikey to step in between us. He held his hands up like a ref callin' a time out and stared long and hard at each of us before he spoke.

"If you have to do this now, go outside. Otherwise, shut up, go to your neutral corners, and deal with it later. We have a war council tomorrow, and it'd probably be better if we could at least _look_ like we're capable of pretending we're all on the same side for a few hours."

* * *

><p><em>I think having Mikey separate us put the fight, or parts of it, in perspective, and we both knew that going down this road would almost guarantee that our family would be shredded in the process. I wasn't through with Leonardo, though, not by a long shot, but I turned in anyway. The council wasn't going to be a picnic, and our personal problems didn't need to be added to mix.<em>

My hand was starting to cramp up. The lines outlining the beginnin' of everything that had passed between me and Leonardo were darker than the rest, a testament to how hard the ire had me bearing down on the page. Inhaling then exhaling deeply, I wondered if there was anything left in Leonardo's old room that I hadn't already broken. I strongly considered checkin' it out, but in the end, I stayed put and pulled out my last cigarette.

There wasn't much left to say, and I was really, really glad for it. Livin' through all of it again was probably the worst thing I'd ever done to myself. I was sure I was crazy, still needin' to talk to my best friend ten years after he passed. I think part of it was the guilt, that yeah, I'd missed the funeral and really my last chance to give him a real good bye. I dunno what the rest was though. One too many shots or somethin' prob'ly.

I sighed. Whatever. It just needed to be done.

* * *

><p>"We're all here then?"<p>

Leo cast an eye around the motley gathering as we all gave less-than-ecstatic grunts. Mikey'd been careful to make sure Angel, April, and he were between me and the Fearless Leader during the powwow. Casey's mask was propped up by a pillow on his favorite chair and no one sat in it. A couple of guys from the junkyard, a few friends of Angel's, and surprisingly, August and Robyn O'Neil were all present. The recent loss was heavy on the air, as was a sense of...well, impending doom. Wonderful. At least I was finally gonna know who kicked the crap outta Leo last week. Maybe I could ask 'em to do it again.

He cleared his throat and waited for ev'ryone to look at him before he spoke. His bandages stood out clearly in the dimly lit room.

"As you all know, the Shredder has been growing in power and resource over the past few years. A very few of us caught wind of it early and formed the resistance that is spread across the boroughs. I know our precautions seemed a bit preposterous at the time, but I think that we are about to be very grateful to have somewhere to hide."

No one moved. I think we were all afraid to breathe.

"Our missions have had mostly mixed success, delaying the inevitable but more or less unable to make a sizable dent in the Shredder's activities. Approximately six nights ago, I led a small reconnaissance team to Saki's mansion. We were able to get past outer security, but once inside, we were flying blind, as it were. They caught us almost immediately." He swallowed. "Two of my men were executed on the spot. The rest of us ran, and they opened fire on us." He absently rotated the stiffness out of his shoulder. "I was lucky. I managed to get out through a vent before…"

He threw his hands up in an exasperated fashioned and began pacing. Forcing out a sigh, he ran a hand over his head. "I don't know what we're going to do. Quite bluntly, the Shredder is amassing his forces as we speak, and he's got humanity in his crosshairs."

Augie didn't miss a beat. "How long would you say we have to prepare?"

A barked laugh escaped Leo's mouth. "If we're lucky? A few weeks, max."

One of Angel's friends, Aaron, asked the question none of us wanted to. "And if we're not?"

"...hours."

_Hours._

Six years of on and off fighting, of sabotaging warehouses and training camps, of lookin' for places we could build underground, of seeking out allies, of hoardin' non-perishables and water...and it came down to a matter of _hours_. We had _hours_ to pack up what was left of our lives and flee like cowards. We had _hours _clear out of the city and pray we overestimated the Shredder's reach.

"How many citizens can we realistically take with us?"

"If they are not part of the rebellion or someone you would _absolutely_ trust with your life, leave them."

The order was harsh and the last thing any of us expected to hear from Leo. But we knew he was right. No one was trustworthy, and anyone not with us was against us or would be against us very shortly. We all stood. I could tell we were all on edge when the a/c kicked on and about half of us drew our weapons. This sucked.

* * *

><p><em>I don't think I really knew how much worse it was going to get. I don't think any of us did, really. The O'Neil clan offered to put us in their family's land in the backwoods until we could come up with a way to fight the Shredder or at least make sure we lived to see the next day. Everyone that was there packed what they could, brought who they could, and were at the old cabin by nightfall. At dawn two days later, New York fell.<em>

_Things haven't changed much since. We fight him where we can, but there are fewer and fewer people left that want to stand up to the tyranny. I can't say I blame them. Going along with it almost guarantees being enslaved, but they have enough, if somewhat infrequent, food, water, and shelter. That's more than I can say for some of us._

_Mikey's the only one still actively fighting as part of the rebellion. He's become a sweet prize for bounty hunters and one of the most feared assassins in the underworld. He leaves me and Leonardo alone for the most part, except when he really needs help with a supply run or one of the more clandestine operations. The last time I saw him, like really got to talk to him, was nearly four years ago._

_I don't know and I don't care what Leonardo's up to these days. Hangs around kinda everywhere, I think. He's not stupid enough to take on even the lowest level Foot anymore, 'cause he knows he's never guaranteed any back up. It's probably driving him nuts._

_As for me, I spend about half of my time drunk and the other half avoiding Leonardo and writing letters to ghosts. Help out where I can, stay out when I can't. Some life, huh?_

I wasn't sure how I should sign the letter or even if I should, I mean, 'cause he'd hafta know I was the one who wrote it, right? But wasn't it some kind of disrespectful to just break off what you were sayin'? Eventually I scratched out my name in English and Japanese and sealed the thing in an envelope I'd made from another sheet of paper. Stuffing it in my jacket, I cast one last glance around the room and nimbly slid back into the shadows, wondering if it was too early to get wasted and pass out somewhere. It wasn't like I had anywhere to be.

~*.*~

_Silent alarms are ringing.  
>Sounds of revolt draw near,<br>a new united front that you will come to fear.  
>We will hold together to become the change,<br>the voice for the voiceless  
>with every common man engaged.<em>

_Ignite and watch us burn_  
>'<em>til every ember turns.<br>Mankind will feel inspired  
>when we set your walls to fire.<em>

_-Anberlin, "The Resistance"_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks to all the readers and reviewers! I know I've been horrible about sending individual replies, please don't hate me!

Hope this chapter was worth the wait! I was planning on waiting a few more days to get as many readers/reviewers as I could, but I'm kinda trapped in my room right now 'cause of construction, so I figured why not? Now, I would appreciate feedback on the scuffle between Leo and Raph. Dialogue is not really my thing, soo...yeah. And I mean, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to comment on anything else...just sayin' ;)

(P.S. The astute readers will have noticed that I have yet to file this one under complete. Workin' on a short epilogue, so stay tuned!)


	3. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

I was honestly surprised when that whisper of breath stirred the night air. The treads were sporadic but confidently placed, silent, light, and the last thing I expected to hear tonight. Straining my ears in the quiet, I stole further under the cover of darkness and watied. I was all too familiar with phantoms that trick the mind and endanger the body. But no, there they were. You can't erase twenty-some-odd years of those footsteps storming past your door or flanking you in combat.

I wish you could. Would've made walking away so much easier.

Raph's footsteps slowed and stilled as he approached the marker. I knew I hadn't ever told him the location of the grave. Mikey must have at some point. The snow crunched under his weight, and the stone made a slight scratching sound as he rubbed his hand across it. He murmured a few words and barked out a raspy cough. The corner of my mouth twitched a little. He probably needed to lay off the cigarettes. Not that _I'd_ be able to say anything.

I could hear him stumbling around as he rose, and just before I would have stepped a bit closer, I got a strong whiff of the alcohol on him. Wonderful_. _I was fairly certain that even as angry (and probably drunk) as he was, he would not attack me unarmed if only to honor the discipline Splinter instilled. About ninety-six percent certain he wouldn't. But once he had enough juice in his system, it became a free-for-all.

The nervous trembles in tandem with my rapid heartbeat shook loose some debris. It _trinkled _its way down into the alley from my perch. Instantly his head shot up, a harsh breath was expelled in surprise, and the _tsuka_ of his blade strained under the grip he had on it.

I swore and jumped down from the ledge before he jumped up. I should have turned tail and ran. It wasn't like anything new or calm was about to go down. I kept my hands out in front of my body, in his line of sight at all time. His breaths were sharp and fast, and I knew he was close to snapping. I sighed to myself. By flight or by fight, the first near-civil contact I'd had with Raph in just under a decade would end.

"Why are _you_ here?"

I bit back the first few answers that would have gotten me a sai down my throat. "He was my friend, too."

"You know I know you heard me comin'. Why didn'tcha scram? Here to fin'ly finish it?" His challenge was more than a little slurred, and talking him...well, _trying_ to talk him down had about as much a chance as working as asking politely asking Shredder to release New York. None whatsoever.

"I'm not here to fight, Raph. I...I wanted to talk to you."

"You're about sixteen years too late for talking." Metal scraped against the worn leather jacket as he brandished the weapon.

"I am not armed."

"I ain't got no problem tossin' my sai and takin' you in a brawl."

I rolled my eyes. "I refuse to fight. Give me five minutes, and I'll give you another sixteen years, okay?"

How something that wouldn't have made sense when he was sober placated him when he wasn't was beyond me, but I took it as a good sign that he seemed curious enough to listen. I gently tapped the wall and listened to the reverberations to get a fix on the major structures as well as my brother. The echoes bounced back quickly. He was no more than ten feet away from me.

"We…we need to learn how to be allies again. You've seen what the world's become. Our issues are not the top priority; survival is. We need to be able to depend on each other again."

His jacket rustled a bit, and I imagined him cocking his head slowly to the right, leaning his weight on to one leg or the other as he considered my words.

"Why would I ever want to _depend_ on the one who took away my father?"

I rubbed my head in frustration, barely noticing the familiar network of scars that were slightly raised. The blame had birthed a bitter hatred between us; I wasn't blind enough to ignore that. I'd spent too many years already casting it on myself, sometimes Mikey, sometimes him. I'd shouted and swore at the sky and the ground and everything in between, and finally, finally had mourned and made my peace. This world and whatever shambles of a family I had left were my lot and needed more attention than my deceased father.

And what got me was that Raphael knew it. He knew he would have to move on at some point. With or, more than likely, without us, he would have to stop running from the pain and face it. But until he collapsed mentally, he was going to pin it on the most convenient target. Sober, drunk, asleep, or awake. Heck, he'd probably go to his grave like that.

And I was more than happy to let him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I know, evil little cliffhanger-ending. But I think that at some point, Leo had to stop trying**, **probably after having so many scenes like this repeat themselves. Believable? In character? Too sappy?

In other news, I got a job! Yay! Unfortunately, updates will not be as frequent as they have been. Boo! And bleh. It's one in the morning. Good night!

Companion to _Purblind._


End file.
